Wake Me Up
by MichikoMichiyo29
Summary: Because he's Sasuke, and she's Sakura, and there's no where else they'd rather be. SasuSaku AU, EDITED and inspired by Ed Sheeran's song "Wake Me Up,"


**_EDIT 11/5/2012:_**

**_If you're a new reader, then I'd suggest you scroll down and read the A/N from the Original, to the first Edit, to this one._**

**Okay…so I'd like to thank ****_MrGoodyTwoShoes _****and ****_Son of Palpatine_**** for FINALLY telling me what I was doing wrong, and helping me out! I realize that some people think that fanfiction critics are trolls and annoying and whatever, but I personally don't feel that way. I'm glad someone's telling me what I'm doing wrong, and actually trying to help me improve.**

**Because writing fanfiction is for personal pleasure yes, but it's also a way through which I improve my writing. And I for one am glad to have experienced people, who know what the fuck they're talking about, critiquing my writing, and telling me whether or not it actually is stupid or wrong.**

**So thanks once again to ****_MrGoodyTwoShoes _****and ****_Son of Palpatine, _****for helping me out. Props to them! **

**So, to keep this story posted, I had to remove the lyrics, but I don't think that it takes away from the beauty of the story at all. If you'd like (and I recommend it) you can look up the song, and play it while you're reading this, or you can look up the lyrics, and place them accordingly in your head or something.**

**I hope I don't lose any readers because of this, but if I do; it's your loss.**

** Enjoy.**

* * *

**_EDIT 11/2/2012:_**

**Hey everyone! This story had gotten taken down by on account of it being a songfic ( I know—complete and total bullshit, mmh?) so I've edited it—some grammar here and there, maybe a bit of spelling, some sentences—and reposted. Hopefully it stays up this time! If not; I'll do it again!**

* * *

**_ORIGINAL:_**

**Okay guys, this thing literally bitch slapped me in the face, and I've been working on it all night (morning), since I don't sleep all that much at night. So, I really hope you like it. When I first heard this song (which was about 3 hours ago) I immediately thought of SasuSaku.**

* * *

**_Title:_**** Wake Me Up**

**_Characters:_**** Sasuke Uchiha, Sakura Haruno**

**_Inspiration:_**** Insomnia, Ed Sheeran's music and black coffee with 4 spoons of sugar.**

**_Song:_**** Wake Me Up (Ed Sheeran)**

**_Rating:_**** K+/T (Wasn't too sure about this…?)**

* * *

**_Disclaimer:_**** I think I finally might be coming to terms with the fact that I will never own Naruto…..But then again, who am I kidding? ****_GAARA IS MINE BITCHES!_**

* * *

Sasuke Uchiha gets into his car after a long, hard day at work, and he pulls out of the parking lot, heading towards the recently bought townhouse that he calls home, and the woman he loves that lives there with him. Sighing into the silent car, Sasuke reaches over and turns on the radio and the song begins, and as he sits and listens to the first notes play, he thinks of her, and immerses himself in the memories…

* * *

Sometimes he thinks about getting a tattoo with her name on it, and getting a new passport picture with both of them in it, and he asks her about it, but she always laughs and says that it doesn't matter if he gets the tattoo, because they both know that she's already tattooed onto the larger part of his heart, and he grunts, and turns away from her teasing smile, because he knows that it's true. And as for the passport photo, she's decided that they should do that before they die, and has officially put it on their bucket list. He tells her that she's crazy, and reminds her that they haven't _started_ their bucket list yet because she keeps _forgetting to write it out,_ but then she hushes him, and inches up on her tip toes, and presses a kiss to his pale throat, and before he can protest at her pulling away, she's already covered her lips with his. And that's when he decides that he really _must _get that tattoo.

* * *

Sometimes when he lies in bed with her, he thinks of her being _Mrs. Uchiha_, and he thinks of her being _his_, and his _alone_, and of his pale hand wearing a ring matching hers on his fourth finger, and of her rolling over, and kissing him like she does, every morning for the rest of their lives, and he pulls her closer, burying his face in her hair to hide the small smile growing on his face at the sound of her drowsy sighs and soft giggles, and he leans down to kiss her, and wonders how she would look 10 years from now and—then he stops thinking, because she's perfect, and his lips are on hers, and there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

* * *

****And when she gets home from the hospital late, and she's lost a patient, he's already there, running the hot water into the large ivory tub with the silver taps, and squeezing the liquid soap into the steaming H20, and splashing the water around until thick, foamy bubbles rise up. The steamy, raspberry scented foam sticks to his forearms, and he hates the steam rising up, because it's making him sweat unnecessarily, but none of that matters, because when she comes in, with messy, sweaty, knotted hair, rumpled, creased scrubs, and a tearstained face, when her smile lights up the whole room, it's all worth it, just to see that look in her sparkling eyes, and see all the love those green eyes can hold.

* * *

He's in the snow, and it's cold, and cloudy, and getting dark soon and it's starting to snow, but he ignores that because she's running around, laughing, and calling for him to chase her, which he gladly does. And when he catches her, he looks deep into her jade eyes, and watches as they glaze that stormy grey/green color they always do in the winter, and he draws her in close, cocooning her in his warmth, and he breathes in her unique smell of Motrin and raspberries, and he buries his face in her _ridiculous _hair, and he laughs.

* * *

He watches her flip her nearly-waist-length hair off her shoulder, and he remembers the first time he saw her, and he remembers thinking, '_Who in the world has pink hair?' _But when he asked her if she dyed it, he got a swift slap to the face, and he learnt some new—albeit impressive—curse words from a loudmouthed, smart, know-it-all, pink haired fangirl with self-esteem issues, anger-management and a forehead bigger than Jupiter. But over the years she grew up. She grew up into the beautiful, kind, smart, loudmouthed, know-it-all, pink-haired former-fangirl with self-esteem issues, anger-management, and a used-to-be-bigger-than-Jupiter-forehead, woman, who he loves with all his heart. But she'd never know _just how beautiful_ she really is to him. Flaws and all.

* * *

****He loves how she always feels guilty whenever she wakes him up, as if he never gets any rest, and he laughs inwardly as she runs around trying to make him a cup of tea, but failing because she can barely make it to the bathroom in the morning, let alone make tea. So he reaches out as she hustles past him, and pulls her by the waist to sprawl out on top of him, and, ignoring her protests, he presses his lips to hers, and silences her babbling about tea, and when they pull back, she smiles down at him, and he smirks up at her, and they say nothing, because there is nothing to be said. Instead, they go back to bed.

* * *

He both loves and despises Saturday nights, because she always makes him watch Shrek with her, but he also doesn't mind because she curls up in his lap, and he holds her close, and he always remembers to leave the light on so he can watch her expressions while she watches the green ogre who once filled her childhood with laughter—and who now fills her Saturday nights. Once, he asked her why she loves Shrek so much, and she told him of the fairytale she prayed for as a young girl, and then there is a flash of determination in his eyes, before he decides to be her Prince, and have her as his Princess. That was the day her DVD player broke. It was also the day he proposed to her. Plus, he got her a VCR. And a brand new Shrek tape. Needless to say she agreed to the whole marriage thing. Who wouldn't? This is _Shrek_ were talking about. Oh…and Sasuke too.

* * *

They go visit her family, and her brother, Gaara, beats him at computer games, and then goes on to beat him at video games, and he gets so frustrated that he chucks the controllers at the TV, which she finds hilarious. And then her parents give him a weird look, and he remembers that he has to tell her Dad that he is marrying his only daughter, and he gulps at the sight of the antique swords on the mantle place, and suddenly has an urge to run. But she reaches over, grabs his hand, and says, _'Daddy, were getting married!'_ and her mother squeals, and her father hyperventilates, and her brother leaps over the table and tries to strangle him, but she catches him by the collar and kicks his ass, and for a moment, he's never been more proud of her, and all he wants to do is kiss that fierce look right off her face, but then he turns and sees her father looking murderous, and the old man reaches for the swords and he takes off running, because, while he could never be called a coward, he definitely has problems with being an eunuch.

* * *

****When he has a series of business trips that cause them to be apart for weeks, with little time between, she is there, asking him if he'll be home next week, patiently waiting for the chance to have him in her arms again. And she will lie with him until he falls asleep—the best sleep he's gotten in almost three months—and he feels her long eyelashes flutter against his cheek, and he rolls over, enveloping her smaller form with his warmth, and in the privacy of their large, quiet bedroom, he smiles into her pale, swan-like throat, and whispers his love for her.

* * *

And he watches her while she sleeps in his arms, brushing his fingers along her face in an attempt to memorize—_again_—the delicate features he knows better than his own, because he knows that in four hours, he will leave for an overcrowded airport, to fly to a place miles away from where his heart truly lies—here. _Home_. With _her._ And so he clings to the time they have left together, knowing that, while he's not leaving forever, it may as well be that long, for he will still feel the pain, the ache and the _longing_, because half of his soul will be here, while he is somewhere else, waiting for the moment when he can feel whole again. And while they lay here together, he looks down into her face, and is struck, once again by the realization that he loves this woman, more than she will ever know.

* * *

He remembers when she went on the non-smoking vendetta, and he, at the time, had been smoking at least four packs a day. It took her years, weeks, days, hours, minutes, _seconds_—but she finally figured out the key to get him to quite his nicotine addiction. It was a rainy Tuesday, and he had gone outside for a smoke, when she marched up to him, look as serious as one can look with pink hair, huge, shiny black galoshes, and a bright red ladybug raincoat, with a matching hat, and umbrella, and she said, _'If you do not quit smoking, I will __**never**__ kiss you __**again**__.'_ And with that said, she pranced away in all her ladybug glory.

He never even _touched_ a cigarette, ever again.

* * *

He thinks it's hilarious that she always drinks as much as him, sometimes less, sometimes more, but no matter what, she always get's piss drunk, with a major, prize worthy hangover the next morning for proof, but he, at the very least, get's tipsy. She considers this a great injustice, and absolutely loves reminding him of it when she's piss drunk, and being dragged home after another drinking contest with his idiot best friend—and her pseudo-brother—Naruto, who was being carted home by his soft-spoken, caring wife, Hinata. But the best thing about her as a drunk is that no matter what, he can count on her telling you the truth. His theory was proven when she called Mr. Tayanora, the old man from down the street, a prostitute-loving pervert who deserved to be locked up, solely on the fact that he hated chocolate. Needless to say that the bitter old man hates her now.

* * *

It's a long drive but they finally arrive at Suna beach, and they take off their flip flops, and walk along the warm sand barefoot, their fingers twined together.

* * *

That afternoon, when she was off buying ice cream, he found the smoothest, most shiny rock he'd ever seen, and he decided that he would carve it into a heart shape, and give it to her as a pendant from him, for her to hang right over her heart.

* * *

As he carves away at the stone, he feels himself making memories, and he also feels like he's carving himself not only a pendant, but a permanent niche in Suna Beach and in her heart. And while he carves, he watches the sun go down, and in the fading shadows of sunset, if you looked close enough; you would see the small smile curling up the edge of his lips.

* * *

So when he is gently shaken awake, and he feels the warm body draped on top of his, he lets a small smirk curl up the corners of his mouth, and he pulls her down onto him, pressing her chest to his, feeling his heart beating against hers, but to the same rhythm, and hearing her breath those shallow, gasping breaths of hers, he listens for a while to the steady _'bump- bump, bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump'_ of their hearts beating in sync, and instead of smirking, he smiles, holding her closer, making the rhythms catch, _'bump, ba-bump-bump, bump, ba-bump-bump, bump, ba-bump-bump, bump, ba-bump-bump'_…

* * *

There is one more shake, and he is awake, once again, and his own, obsidian orbs clash with jade green, and the pale faces mirror one another, one built longer, more narrow, angular and sharply defined, but another, in comparison, soft, heart-shaped, cream skin, flushed pink, soft cheeks and rounded features.

Messy, ebony hair is all over the pace, and still spikes naturally in the back, despite his attempts at taming it. And mirroring the raven-haired albino, is long, soft, pastel pink hair, gnarled and a little tangled from being slept on and messy from the fingers that had been running through it all night. And those similarly breathtaking eyes lock, and the two are lost in their own world, free, and at peace, until the pink haired girl blinks, and both are brought back to the present. As expected, the dark-haired boy smirks, and the cotton-candied haired girl blushes, ducking her head. A slim, pale hand with pianist fingers reaches out and grasps her soft chin, yanking her head up, eyes locking on the jade orbs.

There was still no talking because words are not needed, and then suddenly everything is a blur—and his lips are on hers, and her hands are tangled in his spiky, knotted hair, and his hands are crawling up her bare back, and she is pressing her lips to his neck, and face, and nose, and ears—and suddenly everything stops as their eyes lock once again, and they they notice that their breathing is erratic—coming out in heavy pants—and all they do is sit there and stare.

This time, neither knows who makes the first move, because they were drifting forward, and suddenly their lips are touching, and they're kissing with more passion than the previous kiss—and nothing could ever compare, and they are so alive, and happy, and both are so giddy, that they think they might explode. But they don't. And with one, last, gentle press of her lips, she pulls back, and looks him in the eye, and sees everything she needs to there.

And then she gets up to make tea, knowing exactly how everything will play out later, but she grins when Mr. Ebony suddenly grabs her waist, and pulls her down, into a searing hot kiss, before releasing her, and leaning back, smirking arrogantly at the pink haired girl, who gawks for a second, before getting up, grabbing her robe, and running around, trying to find the slipper she could've sworn she left in the bathroom last night.

And the morning goes on as it usually would, with barely any talking, because they are Sasuke and Sakura, and they've been through too much, and they've loved each other too long and too hard not to understand one another.

And despite their differences, and despite their issues, and problems, and jobs, and _families_—they're together, and they always will be, because Sasuke loves how she's guilty when she wakes up, how she can't hold her alcohol, how she runs in the snow like an idiot, how she has _pink hair_, and the fact that she owns galoshes. And she's also a loudmouthed, tenacious, know-it-all, pink-haired, former-fangirl with self-esteem issues, and anger-management problems with a used-to-be-bigger-than-Jupiter-forehead. But it's okay, because neither one of them are perfect, and they both have issues, but it's okay, because they're Sasuke and Sakura, and no matter what, they'll just get through it.

* * *

And when Sasuke pulls into the space in his driveway, and parks the car, and gets out, his wife, Sakura Haruno—_Uchiha_, now—is waiting in the doorway, and her long pink hair is messy and greasy-looking, and she's piled it up into a mess atop her head, and she's wearing a horrible-too-big apron with a blinding flower print, over shorts and a t-shirt, and though she seems exhausted, (from her double-shift at the hospital, he knows) the smile on her face is just as sweet as it always is, and Sasuke steps right into her arms and inhales the sweet smell of Motrin and raspberries, and he smiles as she rubs his head with her tiny hands and his eyes flutter closed, and all the tension is gone, and he holds her closer—_if that's even possible_—until neither can tell where the other begins, and everything's alright, because he's Sasuke, and she's Sakura, and he's a control-freak, and she's crazy, and he's scared of her father, she's a know-it-all, and he loves her, and she loves him, and he needs her, and she needs him, and no matter what, _there's nowhere else he's rather be than in her arms._

* * *

**Author's Note: ** **_Well, this is the third?-and hopefully, last-time I've posted this. Sayonara!_**


End file.
